


An Eye for An Essay

by StarProphecy7279



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarProphecy7279/pseuds/StarProphecy7279
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonio and Tulio were brothers. Twins to be exact, identical in every way, from the long, curly brown hair, to the deceptively dark skin, from the outrageously bright green eyes, to the awkward gap between their front teeth that their mother couldn't afford to fix. The only physical difference was a vibrant childhood memory left over Tulio's left eye...</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Eye for An Essay

The night had been freezing, easily one of the coldest of the year thus far. Their breath hovered in front of them in thick mist, visible only when they passed beneath the glow of the street lamps lining the road, the cloud cover above making it too dark to see more than a few feet in front of them. The lateness of the hour, as well as the ankle-deep snow crunching beneath their feet left the streets deserted, save for two boys, twins, trekking home from a Friday night video game party. Their names were Antonio and Tulio Traviaso, always in that order, always as a pair. And both of them hated that. Normally, they would have made it home by now, but tonight, they were distracted, Antonio by the cold, Tulio by Antonio; more specifically, by the fact that Antonio refused to shut up.

"Toni, you do realize that complaining will have absolutely no effect on the weather, right?" Tulio said, rolling his green eyes and nearly biting his tongue as his teeth chattered.

"I don't care," Antonio stated stubbornly, shaking the long, curly brown ponytail over his shoulder—another stupid way Antonio copied him, Tulio thought bitterly. "It's freezing."

"Shut up."

It was here that Tulio stopped to survey his surroundings, realizing for the first time that they were not familiar.

"Where are we?"

"Antarctica?"

"I'm serious, Tonio, I think we missed our street."

Antonio glanced around as well, squinting in the darkness in an attempt to get a better understanding of his surroundings. Hmm… that tag on that wall didn't look familiar.

"Maybe we should double back," Antonio suggested.

They tried that, following their own footprints in the snow, slipping occasionally on the hardened ice. Minutes passed, or at least what felt like minutes to Tulio; his sense of time was a bit warped by his desire to get out of the cold. He removed his hands from his pockets and shook them out vigorously, attempting to remove the stinging pain in his fingers.

"I think I have frostbite…," he said, squinting at his reddened fingers."

"Now who's complaining?"

"Ya know what?" Tulio said, finally reaching his limit. He was cold. He was exhausted. His hands were on fire and his brother was being a complete and total tool. "I hate you."

"I should care," Antonio snarked back.

"You are such a pain in the ass!" Tulio added, stomping around to cut his brother off. "I am so sick of people mistaking me for an immature, little brat like you!"

"How do you think I feel?" Antonio countered. "It's pretty damn annoying that people always think I'm some weak, holier-than-thou…caraculo!"

They'd had this fight a million times, their anger admittedly misplaced when directed at one another but neither could find it in them to much care, Tulio in particular. As far as Tulio was concerned, it was Antonio's fault. Tulio was older, had been pulled out a full seventy-four seconds before his brother took his first breath, and if the doctor hadn't reached in again to pull out this little annoyance, he'd have the right to what the idiots who insisted he was lucky took for granteed: an identity. Oh sure, he had one of those: twin. That was who he was, that guy with the identical twin brother, the one "lucky" enough to just happen to have someone close by who looks exactly like him. How cool is that? To have someone who looks exactly like you?

"¡Idiota!"

Answer: Not cool at all. Tulio hated it, they both did. Their own mother couldn't even tell them apart. They were never seen as separate, always just two halves of pair, as if their brotherhood was their entire existence. It's kind of funny the first time you get mistaken for your brother. The second time it happens, it's annoying, the third you want to kill the next person who does it. Eleven years of it makes you irrevocably bitter.

"¡Vete a la mierda!"

And that bitterness was, once again, reaching its boiling point. It was unfair, unfair that neither of them had a friend in the world that didn't hesitate when addressing them in fear of calling them the wrong name, that each of them had on several occasion, been asked out by a girl who claimed to like the other, that they often woke in each other's beds after falling asleep on the sofa, that Tulio had once gotten a mark on his permanent record for an act of vandalism committed by Antonio. This fight was old but one worth having again and again: If they couldn't blame the world for not knowing them, they would blame each other for coming into it at the same time.

"¡Deseo que no te fueres mi hermano!"

Tulio knew he was over stepping a line by saying that, but he didn't care. At the moment, it was true: he wished he didn't have a brother. He wished he was only child, that his face was his and no one else's, that there wasn't someone else in the world that had as much claim to it as he did. Antonio understood that, but he was too upset to care.

"¡Espero que te mueras!"

And Antonio knew the moment it was out of his mouth that he would later regret saying that. Maybe he did just a little bit already… Tulio was doing a pretty spectacular job of hiding how much that hateful phrase had hurt… it was only because of how well Antonio knew his brother that he could tell he was struggling to keep his face impassive.

"You know what?" Tulio said turning his back on his brother and crossing his arms over his chest, "find your own way home. I'm not walking with you."

"Fine!" Antonio shouted at his brother's retreating back, and just because he could, stooped down, scooping up a sizable amount of ice, packing it as well as he could in his numb, red fingers, and hurling it as hard as he could in the direction of his brother.

In his irritation, he overshot his mark. As the snownball arched over Tulio's head and toward the adjoining pavement, both boys stopped to watch, as if mesmerized. A small gasp left Antonio's lips as he caught sight of his unintended target, a dark-clad figure, previously unnoticed by either boy, twitching evident even from the sixty feet that separated them.

"Oh no…."

The snowball hit its mark, disappearing as it collided with the stranger. A loud scream rent the air and time seemed to speed up.

"¡Corré!"

Antonio hadn't noticed his brother double- back for him; he been too focused on the rapidly approaching figure he had hit. Now, however, he felt an unusually warm pressure on his hand, forcing him to move forward. Tulio had grabbed a hold of him.

"Come on, Toni!" Tulio insisted, giving a hard yank to Antonio's arm in an attempt to force him to move faster. "Hurry up or I'm leaving you!"

His brother dropped his hand to allow both of them to run better. Tulio was faster, always had been, but Antonio stayed hot on his heels as they ran, slipping and sliding over the packed snow and ice, neither knowing what would become of them if they were caught, neither wishing to find out. Yet the stranger gained on them, moving quicker than should be possible, older and taller than both boys. Antonio threw a glance over his shoulder to see the stranger was only ten feet from them now.

If only he hadn't looked back. Things could have turned out so differently if he had only kept his eyes ahead: he may have noticed the rise in the snow where that rock—that damned rock—was hidden. He may have avoided catching his foot on it, the pain like fire in his numb toes, and rolling his ankle in his failed attempt to regain his balance. But he didn't. He looked back. And because of this, he fell, landing with a strangled cry in a heap, the snow doing little to cushion his fall. He scrambled in an attempt to return to his feet, but the pain in his ankle, slowed him too much. The stranger was on him in moments.

To his surprise, the stranger was a girl, a young woman actually, in her late teens by the look of it, though it was hard to tell. At one time, she may have been beautiful, but now, beauty was the furthest description possible. Her skin was waxy, red-tinted, covered in boils and scabs, her breath on his face putrid from her rotten teeth. Her long black hair, was so matted and tangled, Antonio almost didn't notice how unnaturally thin it was for someone her age or that it was weighed down with sweat even in this abominably cold air. Her eyes were bloodshot, her pupils dilated unnaturally even in the dark. But the thing that was truly terrifying about her was how animalistic she looked, how psychotic she appeared. This was not going to end well.

"Who sent you?!" Who are you working for?!"

"What?"

The air stopped moving through his lungs as freezing, scarily strong hands closed around his throat. His clawing at her skin seemed to have no effect and all he could do was writhe and gasp in the snow in a desperate attempt to draw oxygen as the girl screamed.

Then, suddenly, it was gone, the pressure removed from his throat and the weight lifted from his body, his hands went to massage his neck as he coughed, sputtering and wheezing to replenish the oxygen in his brain, too light-headed to sit up and see what had happened. So loud was the blood in his ears, he didn't notice the sounds of the struggle taking placed a mere few feet away.

Then, a loud scram filled the air, one that Antonio knew well. He heard it all the time when they saw snakes in the courtyard outside their apartment ("they're creepy okay?!") or mice in their school ("They carry diseases!"). But never before had he heard it sound so terrified.

"Tulio?"

He pushed himself up into a sitting position… and his insides turned as cold as the ground beneath him.

Tulio's back was to him, but Antonio could tell from the trembling in his shoulders that he was in a great deal of pain. He sat on his hunches, pinning the girl to the ground with a knee on either side of her thin waist, but the girl still had the advantage. Because in her hand, glinting in the light of the streetlamp under which they had fallen, was a knife… stained red with freshly spilt blood.

"No!"

Another blow was dealt to Tulio's head by the butt of the blade and he fell, toppling over in the snow without so much a s an attempt at catching himself. Now, free from her restraint, the girl jumped to her feet and ran off, as if nothing has happened, as if she hadn't just stabbed an eleven-year-old boy.

"Tulio!" Antonio scrambled over to his brother, ignoring the pain in his probably sprained ankle as he moved, focusing on getting to the boy who lay crumpled in the snow. "Tulio?"

He had only been there a few moments, but the snow beneath Tulio's head had already been stained a deep red from the wound. So much blood… Antonio thought, rolling his brother over to lie on his back. Tulio's pale, red hands were clutching his face, small moans of pain coming out muffled between his fingers.

"Let me see. What happened?"

Tulio only shook his head, clutching his face tighter, a sob making itself heard beneath his hands. Antonio ignored him, grabbing his brother's trembling hands and moved them away from his face.

His own hands went to cover his mouth in horror at what he saw, gasping before he could help: a deep gash ran the length of Tulio's face, so deep, Antonio actually saw a small sliver of white bone on his forehead . The blood seeping from his cheek had nearly coated his entire face as well as saturated his bangs, leaving them stuck and freezing to his jawline. But the thing that was most disturbing was his eye… or more accurately, what remained of it. Tulio's eyes were closed… but Antonio could still see his left one. His eyelid had been torn by the path of the knife, leaving the mangled remains of what had once been a beautiful, green eye clearly visible.

"I-it doesn't look so bad…," Antonio said, swallowing the bile that had risen in his throat at the sight.

Tulio just moaned and covered his face again.

"C-come on," Antonio stuttered, looking away from his brother's mutilated face and helping him to sit up. "We need to get you home. Mamá will know what to do. Can you walk?"

"I-I think so…," Tulio croaked, moving his hands slightly to allow his voice to be heard clearly. "C-can you?"

"I'm fine," Antonio stated, pulling Tulio to his feet. Somehow his own sprained anlke didn't seem incredibly important at the moment. He ignored the pain in favor of yanking one of Tulio's hands away from his face in order to pull his arm over his shoulders and help support his weight while they walked, moving as quickly as he possibly could without slipping and further injuring both of them. The chase had led them back to an area he knew, only a few blocks away from their apartment complex.

The pain in Antonio's ankle served as a good distraction. He focused on that, the cold, the warm blood soaking his coat, anything to distract him from the guilt holding his heart in a chokehold.

This is my fault, Antonio thought, when he noticed the weight on his shoulder had become increasingly heavy as his brother lost the ability to move on his own. All my fault. If I hadn't thrown that stupid snowball… and what I said. Right before this happened… I'm awful….

How could he have said such an awful thing to his brother? How could he have slung such a cruel phrase in the midst of such a stupid fight…?

"Tulio...," Antonio said softly, when his thoughts became too much to handle, "What I said… I didn't mean it. I don't wish you'd die… I've never wished you'd die. Please don't… don't die Tulio…."

And Antonio wasn't crying. There was just… snow on his face.

"Shut up, you idiot," Tulio murmured back, his weak voice barely audible over the crunching of their own sloppy footsteps. "I know. And I didn't mean it either. I… I'm glad you're my brother. I couldn't ask for a better one."

Now Antonio was crying. A little. Just a little. Though Tulio's weakening grip on his shoulders made the tears come a little faster.

The next several hours blur together in Antonio's memory almost passed the point of being recognizable. One moment he was jamming the call button to their apartment, telling their mother Tulio was hurt. The next they were carrying an unconscious Tulio into the ER, watching him be wheeled away on a gurney while their mother gave his medical history, forcing him to jump in on occasion to correct her when she gave his information instead of his brother's. Then, he was telling an officer about the attack, describing the street they had been on and the terrifying girl that had done it. Then came the news that Tulio needed over a dozen stitches and something called an enucleation. At this point, he had been falling asleep against his mother's shoulder and had been far too exhausted to even begin to try and understand what that meant.

He was not allowed to see his brother again until mid-afternoon of the following day, when he woke up from his surgery coherent enough for visitors. The doctor walked them back to Tulio's room and left them alone, only after managing to pull Mamá off of Tulio, as strangling him would likely not be good for him at the moment.

"How are you feeling, mi amor?" she had asked, gently stroking his hair as he sat propped up in bed.

"Whacked out," was his hoarse reply.

"I'm not surprised," said Mamá softly. "They have you on a lot of pain medication."

"There are three of you."

"Maybe we should talk to them about lowering the amount."

Antonio glanced up slightly. He had been staring at the speckled, tile floor since the moment they walked in, too ashamed and afraid to look at his brother. He stood on the other side of the room, his hands folded in front of him, afraid to get too close; terrified he may hurt Tulio again. That was, until a nurse poked his head in the door and asked to speak to their mother outside and she shoved him forwards on her way out the door.

"Oww!"

"Go sit next to your brother," she hissed, before stepping out and closing the door behind her.

Antonio took two tiny steps forward and continued to stare at the floor.

"Are you actually there or am I hallucinating?" Tulio slurred groggily.

"I'm here…," Antonio muttered.

"It's weird for you to be this quiet for so long."

"…."

"Am I really that bad to look at?"

"I don't know… I haven't looked yet."

"Well, do it. I need to know if I'm still better looking than you."

"Keep dreaming."

"Well?"

Antonio took a deep breath and looked up.

It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. The stitches were a bit shocking at first but they would be gone in a few weeks. What Antonio was more concerned about was the eye patch that was hiding Tulio's injured eye from view.

"What's gonna happen to your eye?" Antonio asked, inching closer.

"It's gone."

"What?!"

"That's what the surgery was for. They couldn't fix it."

"So they took it out?!"

"I think they were hoping they could put a fake one in. That's probably what they're talking to Mamá about right now."

"Tulio…."

What was he supposed to say? How could he put into words how sorry he was for causing this to happen? One stupid mistake had cost his brother his eye, left him half blind all because he had been mad at him over something neither of them could control. This was so impossibly unfair….

"On the bright side, people will finally be able to tell us apart."

"If I hadn't…-"

"Oh stop it," Tulio huffed. "It's a bad enough situation without you making it about you. Shit happens, bro. We have to live with it."

Antonio looked up at his brother, staring into the one good eye, identical in every way to his own.

"I'm sorry…."

"Yeah… me too."

"Are we… gonna be okay?"

Tulio exhaled deeply, blowing his bangs out of his face, as he leaned further back in his bed.

"Well… ya did lug me home in the snow while I bleed out on your shoulder so… I guess we can call it good… provided you take my next math test for me."

"I feel like our teacher may get suspicious when we switch seats now."

"Point. Write my next essay then."

"Deal."


End file.
